A Song Of Fire And Water: Prologue
by ErodedPeridot
Summary: The prologue to A Song Of Fire and Water, this is my first time doing something like this. I hope you enjoy, and stayed tuned! :D (This part of the song is over, it's tune has been heard. Check out ASOFAW: Verse One for the start of our tale. :) )
1. Chapter 1

"Let me sing you a song of fire and water,

A tale of two brothers born,

One embraced the path of brightness and light,

The other fell to darkness and scorn.

Let me sing you a song of fire and water,

A tale that should be heard by all."

-The Tome of Mysteries, "A song of Fire and Water."

A Song Of Fire and Water: Prologue

Chapter one

 _The Multiverse!_

 _A place of myriad possibilities, of countless endeavors. A place of infinite stories…_

 _Stories. A thing I know much about._

In the cold darkness of space, a large craft can be seen speeding through the void. It has no predetermined destination or goal, it just floats along the ethereal waves.

A large ship, made up of the technologies of a thousand worlds, many of its parts are unknowable to any but from whose world the part originated from. Various clicks and whirls, whistles and other, stranger sounds emanate from the solitary craft.

Inside its massive frame, stacked from ceiling to floor, and wall to wall are all forms of books, papers, parchments, magazines, pamphlets and other written forms of cultural history. If one took the time to search any length of time, one would see the histories of many worlds, some dead, some still living. Amongst the many papers, the strange lights that flash and blink, and the strange alien sounds made by the spacecraft, a large padded chair is positioned in the epicenter of the books.

And in the chair, slumped slightly, is a figure. Whatever gender or of what species it belongs to is obscured by the layers of clothes that it wore on its being. Each piece was a another piece of a world's history and culture. Many different styles and colors clashed, creating a cacophony of designs and colors, so never before seen by mortal men.

But such was the way of the Noctum clan, and it's small number of members. A number which grew smaller as the ravages of time took its toll on the different beings of the clan. Soon, another would join the others that came before, and died before.

But this one, it had one last tale to chronicle. One last history to read. One last lesson to teach.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Zimus's P.O.V. ( _words written like this are thoughts)_

I let out a sigh, then shifted in the comfortable chair I was seated in. After a few moments, I slowly opened my eyes, and blinked. The thick goggles I wore to protect my vision from the visual perils of space gave the world before me a greenish tint. It was something that I still had trouble getting used to. Even after all these years.

Another moment, then I yawned and stretched out my arms to awaken my body from its slumber. The cloth that obstructed my mouth caught the hot air as I expelled it. Thankfully, my nose was uncovered, so it replaced the air my body cried for.

I then sat straight up and leaned back, taking a more natural sitting position. A sigh escaped my lips.

 _How long have I lived for? I must be nearing my end, even now I feel the pull of time pulling me towards entropy._

 _How much time do I have left? I do not know. I can only hope that it is enough._

With that thought, I reached over and tapped a few buttons on my chair arm.

Suddenly, from the roof of my ship, a long, narrow panel slid open, lowering down a flat, transparent screen. And with another tap of a button, another smaller, yet more wide panel slid open, and a small circular machine flew out of it. It was the size of a small child's ball, metallic gray all of it, except for the large lens that Sat in its front. A recorder.

I watched as it flew all around me, it's lens expanding and retracting as it worked me into its focus. I glanced at the screen, and saw it was capturing the recorder's every shot. I was ready.

I pressed one last button on my chair's arm, and watched as a bright red dot appeared on the screen in its top left corner. I was on.

I cleared my throat, then began:

"To whoever finds this vessel; I am Zimus Noctum, the captain of the craft. If you are watching this, then my time is over. My clan, we are the collectors of history, we preserve the artifacts of the worlds that float out here in the void. Each of us are tasked with the saving of a different aspect of a species culture and histories of the visual, audio, and written styles. I am a collector of stories."

I gestured with my right hand to the many stacks and piles of papers that were strewn about my feet and other places. I then continued.

"There are those who call us 'Trash Men', 'Morticians of Dead Worlds', 'Hoarders of Riches', 'Carrion Scavengers of a thousand realities', I truly could go on and on…"

I trailed off then, suddenly weary. Recalling all those names, I felt a feeling I hadn't felt in many years. Was it sadness? Anger? Perhaps a mixture of both. I gained my thoughts again, and continued my point.

"But we are nothing like that. The things that one can learn from other's lives. We learn how to they lived, how they died..."

A rush of memories overcame me. I struggled with the sudden deluge of sounds, sights, and feelings I had thought long forgotten. It was bittersweet. I spoke again, and was surprised to hear my voice crack, like breaking ice.

"…how they loved.."

I stopped to compose myself. I was told to never be swayed by the things I saw or learned. But this was my history that had flashed across my mind's eye. How could I not? After a seeming endless second, I started my message again.

"The names we are called are misconceptions by those who refuse to learn the lessons we teach. Those who refuse to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it's mistakes. I find that to be absolutely true. So now, to you who now are the caretakers of these books, these stories. I wish to share one last story with you."

I reached down, and picked up a large book that had been sitting near my chair. I had looked through this volume many, many times. And I still found new stories in those pages. If I could love a book, it would be this one. I held it up so that the recorder could capture it's ancient, leather bound face and spine. I then placed it in my lap, and opened it up. A few flips of the pages, and I found what I was looking for. I looked into the lens of the recorder as it met my gaze.

"Our story starts on a small planet in the backwoods of space. The planet is called Mobius, and there was a time when Titans walked its face…"


End file.
